


With tentacles and love

by araydre, Fancy_Dragonqueen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Good Guys, Jack is Black Ops, M/M, Tentacle Monster - Freeform, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 12:34:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16475672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araydre/pseuds/araydre, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fancy_Dragonqueen/pseuds/Fancy_Dragonqueen
Summary: Jack's inherited a new house.He's coming home on vacation on borrowed time before he needs to ship out again.The house is nice, but something is fishy. Like really fishy. Why is it tidying itself? Why does it feel as if he's talking and someone's listening?Where does the food vanish?What the hell is happening





	With tentacles and love

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween my dear lovely fellows  
> This fic isn't finished yet, therefore you're getting chapters XD While I try to finish it as fast as I can ;) Somehow this turned from a planned 2k story into a well 11k+ with more plot than I thought at first :-P  
> Hope you enjoy and have a scary Halloween!
> 
> This is a fill for my Hydra Husband Bingo card <3 "Tentacles"

The house was dark when Jack entered it.  
Of course it was.  
There hadn't been a human being living in it since over ten years.  
No one seemed to want to live in it.  
With a heavy sigh he tried out the lights, jumping back startled when they came to life.  
Weird.  
He hadn't thought anyone had entered the house after his last living relative Uncle Dean had bought it.  
Poor Uncle Dean had broken his neck while wandering around drunk and died the moment he hit the stairs.  
Jack hadn't even known that good, but he still had gained this old house.  
Which seemed strangely to be lived in.

There was no dust nowhere to be seen.  
Everything looked clean and tidied, well cared for.  
Except the walls were some profanities had been tried to be erased with weird colors not fitting the old fashioned wallpapers. It looked like there had been some leftover paint to be painted over some of the walls, trying to make a pattern. Jack shook his head. It didn't look like something an adult had done. Maybe some run away kid that used the infamous "haunted house" as shelter.

"Hello?" He tried.

Nothing.

"My name is Jack. You can come out. This house is mine now but I won't throw you out. You can stay here till we figure something out."

If it _was_ a child he sure wouldn't want to throw them out in the middle of the night in the middle of almost nowhere. If they found shelter in here they clearly had been in trouble.  
Still no answer.  
Jack sighed. Maybe they were gone. Or scared. He just hoped it wasn't a madman. He had killed enough people. There was no need to add some more blood to his already dripping hands.

The house remained Silent so Jack shrugged his shoulders, locked the door and grabbed the gun he had always with him. Time to investigate.

Perhaps he should have started driving earlier, looking at a house by daylight or spending the night in a hotel. Not that he would have been able to sleep in an unknown environment surrounded by strangers who didn't know to calm down and stop talking.  
The house was quiet. No signs of life. Some more graffities were to be seen, some attempts to erase them like the ones in the entrance, others looked like they were older and were okay to stay. Jack couldn't see the difference why some of them were okay and others were overpainted. It didn't make any sense. Maybe the one living here couldn't read? That would at least make sense why things like Monster and asshole were okay, but the pentagram and the "Cleanse this house with the spirit of " whatever the fuck was the thing they tried to summon called. Jack could only roll his eyes. He had seen a lot. But supernatural beings? Nope.  
He wasn't one to believe such fairy tales. Jack would need to see it with his own eyes and that wouldn't happen.  
There was nothing more than this shitty world and people that tried to escape it with false hope. Jack knew that nothing was waiting for him after death. It was soothing. The thought that it all ended. The nightmares. The panic attacks. He wasn't suicidal but he wouldn't fight death if he came for him. Not in the manner of a real being but a matter of speech.  
Jack shook his head when he saw some of the furniture, broken but tried repairing. Bedlinens and what looked like curtains from the dining room were bound around a table leg. The whole table was too wonky to even consider to put something on it.  
He had a lot to do if he wanted to stay in here.  
Jack hoped that the child - and it really could only be a teenager or a child, considering the childish repairs- was safe in a new happy environment. He tried not to think about it, too many children he had seen without family. Without homes. Without limbs. He always hated war movies because they looked so heroic, so right. As if something was right in killing humans, killing fathers of children. Killing husbands. Some assholes even sending children to fight their wars and it hurt everytime when he needed to kill one. It wasn't easy, not in the beginning. It hurt more when he didn't even think anymore about the age of the child when it came for them with guns or explosives. Jack had lost good soldiers, good friends to things like that. No one wanted to kill a child but they all learned from the first successful suicide mission one of them had launched.

There really wasn't anything good in war, nothing noble and heroic. It was nasty and fast, dirty and merciless. There was no room for social etiquette or politeness. That was something you needed to learn if you wanted to survive.

"Stop it, Jack. You're home now." He whispered angrily to himself. There was no need in thinking further, he already slept with nightmares, he didn't need to conjure them in a new house, tainting the room he would chose with old memories. He was here to start a new life.  
Finally he reached the bedroom, well more of the master bedroom, as there were three others.  
The bed was made like the rest of the house. It looked soft and fluffy. Inviting.  
Jack wasn't used to beds anymore but he loved to just lay in them, close his eyes and think of sleep. It was like lying in a cloud. He knew that a lot of fellow soldier didn't like beds, but for him it was like falling asleep in a dream. It didn't make sense for his body, didn't remind him of the war he was fighting in. Jack still didn't sleep long or without nightmares but it was better than sleeping on the floor or on the ground in the garden. It felt safer. Sometimes he really fell asleep.

Jack fell asleep, dreaming of strange shadows, dreaming of someone leaning over him, almost touching his cheek. He dreamed of opening his eyes, looking right into startled brown ones. They had a slight greener tone in it too and he smiled. It felt like a nice dream waking up to something so beautiful, high cheekbones and lips slightly wet as if they wanted to be kissed. Jack sighed and closed his eyes again, knowing that it wasn't real. He would have felt someone nearing him, would have woken from the sound.  
Normally it was the face of someone he killed that woke him up like that, someone he couldn't save. He had never seen a man like that before, he would remember.

When Jack opened his eyes it was to the sound of a bird singing outside, the sun shining brightly into the room. He blinked confused, feeling strangely rested. Somewhen in the night he looked like he got cold because there was a blanket over parts of his body, keeping him warm.  
There was no sound to be heard in the basement.  
House.  
He needed to call it house, needed to call it home. He wouldn't go crazy and make it a real basement. Maybe secure it a bit more, but nothing else.  
This was his home now. Jack smiled and took the good nights sleep as an indication that life would turn better now.  
During his service he had lost everything.  
His boyfriend that couldn't stand him coming home months later. Couldn't stand his nightmares when he was home, couldn't stand that Jack couldn't talk of his work as he was not normal military but black ops. Kyle had another one already looking for him. Jack had only felt numb when he had read the letter. Kyle hadn't even told him when he had been there, instead there was a letter a week later where Kyle explained that he was seeing someone else, that he couldn't take it anymore and Jack should stay where he was. It was better for all of them.

Jack had felt numb at that, he had loved Kyle, would have given everything to make him safe. He just couldn't go back to a normal life. He had tried. The real world wasn't something that fulfilled him anymore. Jack tried to ignore that it was exactly that what he needed to do right now. His CO had sent him home. As if he still had a home and not an apartment that had needed to leave.  
Everything there would have reminded him of Kyle so it might have been for the better.

Jack took the time to lay in bed a bit more, thinking about what he wanted to do for the day. At first he would look at the damage done to the building. Then he would buy some paint and food. God he needed food and he craved a beer.  
It felt strange when he got up, suddenly so rested, like his body had just taken what he needed. It did that sometimes, not that long. He had slept more than six hours. That was a new record. It was a nice start.  
Even with his program he didn't skip training, needed to keep his body healthy and fit. He would need to go back in three months again. They’d been sent home for that time because no one of them had taken any vacation, they weren't needed right now and their CO had send them home. Jack had the feeling that their next mission might be some suicide mission again. Not that it mattered. There was no one waiting for him to come home.

The next hours were filled with him looking at everything, making notes, making coffee. The house was in a good condition, not to be expected by an unlived-in house. Maybe his uncle had taken care of it? Jack didn't remember much of Uncle Dean but he might have been a skilled craftsman.  
He took his old jeep and made a grocery shopping that would last at least two weeks. Jack didn't like to go out and buy things everyday.  
The people in town were nice but distant, thanked him for his service when they saw that he was a military man. He was always flustered by that. He didn't like to be thanked for what he did so he just smiled a tired little smile he managed to plant on his face and paid for his things. With veteran discount. He wasn’t even one! They still wouldn't take his money.  
Jack really had enough of it, he could just tear down the house and build it anew, but he liked it.  
It was build very solidly and had a nice charming touch to it. Jack really liked his new home. Even if he didn't knew what to do with it in the months he wouldn't be there. He didn't want to rent it out, didn't need the money for it and sure as hell didn't want strangers in his house.  
He would think about the problem when he encountered it.

"I'm back." He talked to the empty building, normally not one to talk very much, but tired of the silence. He was used to his friends and coworkers being loud and harsh. It felt like something was missing there. Maybe he should get a cat. Or a goldfish. Not that the fish would talk back a lot and the cat would probably die when he wasn't around. Or would run away to his neighbours to find a nice family. So no pets.  
Jack shook his head, he really needed to do something, his mind was running miles and in the strangest directions. It wasn't as if he needed someone or something to keep him company. He just needed to be busy to shut up his stupid brain.  
Ripping down the wallpapers in the entrance hall was easier than expected. He had done this in their old apartment and he had helped their neighbours often so he knew what to do and what to expect. It took time to prepare the wall. It was good work, something else than he did all day and night normally and he loved to see the entrance hall slowly forming into something he would like to come home to. They were clean white right now, but he wanted to buy a nice wardrobe for the hall, maybe even a cupboard. He had bought a mat with "welcome home" on it just to have the feeling to be welcomed. To have a normal life. It was a bit like the role playing he had done in his earlier years with his nieces. Jack smiled when he finished the last wallpaper, whistling to himself before he made his way to the fridge. It was an old one but still functional. He had wanted to clean it out but it had already be cleaned. There was so much space in it he could practically sit there. The shelves had been taken out and neatly stacked to the side, Jack didn't know why but he couldn't ask someone, could he?  
Taking out a cold beer he made his way to the living room. There were books in there, so many books. All in all the whole house seemed like one big library, whoever had had it before really loved to read. They were all in good condition, even if the more dubious ones looked more read. Probably a woman in need of a good fantasy story of some fearsome stranger rescuing her from whatever. Not that he minded a book like that when he wanted to tune out the world. He still needed a television, which he totally forgot. And he needed internet, a laptop and maybe some new tables and chairs. A new couch would be nice to but he hadn't decided what colors he wanted in the living room yet. Maybe a dark brown? Or should he go all classy black and white?  
God, he needed to make the bathroom all anew. It was terrible in wornout brown and peach. Not exactly his colors. He would go for classic black and white in the bathroom and for brown in the living room. Or red. Yes. A warm red would be nice, white walls with accent reds. He wanted to keep the bookshelves, the floor was good looking too. He he didn't need to change anything there.  
Happy with his train of thoughts he went back to the entrance only to stop.  
What the actual fuck.  
He knew exactly that he had left everything lying around.  
Now it was put to the side, tidy and even the little splatters of white were gone from the floor.  
That couldn't be possible.  
A quick check on the clock told him that he didn't miss any time, which sometimes happened when his brain had time to catch up and relax. Always the good times ruined by psychic disorders.  
This.  
This wasn't a disorder. This was insane.  
No human being could be that fast and that quiet to tidy up everything without him noticing. Without even closing the door that he couldn't hear anything.  
The brushes were in the water, only half cleaned as if whomever had done this had been interrupted and fled the scene.  
Jack really didn't like to tidy up but this was kinda creepy.  
There had been reports about this house being haunted, but nothing was to be said about a ghost being a neat freak. Not that he believed in ghosts. There needed to be a normal explanation.  
"What the fuck." He whispered under his breath and shook his head. Maybe he shouldn't drink beer, or maybe he should drink some more. Not that he should with a possible threat in his house. Not that he had been attacked, whomever that was seemed to want to stay quiet and alone.

"Who are you? I want you to come out."


End file.
